


Blackbirds

by becausefeels



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Amnesiac Stiles, Bonding, Collars, Domestic Violence, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Kink, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Memory Loss, Mpreg, Scent Marking, Slave Stiles, Slavery, a bunch of other interesting tags to reel you into reading the story but basically just read it ok, human!Erica, human!Isaac
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becausefeels/pseuds/becausefeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's rich. Derek's strong. Derek's the most well-known alpha in a world where werewolves were the high species and all the others hid. Humans became things they worked so hard to get rid of - slaves. Systems continued, but werewolves ruled, and Derek just so happened to come from a long line of werewolves born, not bitten. Of course there were others in other countries, but Derek was looked up to, despite being so young. He knew that. He knew his power. And after Kate was turned, he took her as a wife and reigned. He was a typical sovereign leader; lots of money, a mansion he didn't need, and a few slaves. When Derek is faced with a tough situation, he finds another slave - a slim, defiant nineteen year old boy who had no other name but, "Stiles."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

When Stiles came to, he found himself in a pen - undoubtedly a pig pen, or some other medium sized animal. Straw poked at his bruised, tender skin, but he’d unconsciously moved it away from his face while he slept. As he gained his bearings, he looked around to find himself in a strongly lit room with harshly glaring light bulbs. He groaned softly, trying to raise his hand to shield it from the glare. A shock coursed through him from a device on his neck and he cried out, vision blurring.

"Hands down," a harsh voice grumbled down at him. “And stop making noise, or I’ll shock you harder."

Stiles immediately fell silent, biting back a whimper. He stared as people shuffled by him, poking and prodding at him through the metal bars of the pen, searching him for he knew not what. A bottle of water sat in the corner and his gaze quested upwards, pleading, fingers reaching for the bottle. When he didn't feel the familiar spark of pain around his neck, he grabbed it and managed a few sips before the man guarding him growled his warning. That was enough. Stiles capped the bottle quickly and put it back in the corner before turning to study the werewolves shuffling by him.

"Special one, this one," said his guard. “He can carry ‘em." Stiles groaned softly, fought a scream when the device on his neck shocked him again.

"You’re hurting him," a soft, gruff voice muttered to the guard. The guard snorted.

"Want me to stop? Buy ‘im then. Otherwise, I’m under strict orders to keep this one from doing anything." Stiles heard a quiet hiss of anger and tried to find the face of its owner, but the group crowding around Stiles dispersed seconds later to look at another human ready for purchase.

Stiles watched them go dully, hoping this time someone would buy him quickly, maybe even set him free, but he knew better. He knew how unlikely it was. With no parents left to take him home and no high school diploma, there was no life that Stiles could make for himself on his own. At least, that’s what he’d been told. He didn’t even know if his name was actually Stiles.

"Ladies and gentleman, if you’ll please take a seat, the auction is about to start." Stiles' eyes closed as the hum of hushed voices left the holding room. He hoped that this would go by quickly.

"Finish your water," the guard grunted, unlocking and opening the door to the pen. Stiles grabbed the bottle instantly, chugging it down as quickly as he could without choking, gasping as he pulled the empty container away, flimsy plastic crumbling in his grasp. The guard prodded him forward with the tip of his whip. “Let’s go. You’re up first. They want to be rid of you as soon as possible." Stiles kept his face blank, eyes on the floor as he was prodded out of the room and up onto the wooden stage, fingers lightly running over the cloth of the flimsy potato sack pants they’d given him. The rest of him was bare, open for the patrons to see.

He tried to keep the rest of himself emotionless, eyes downcast, knowing that all of them would smell even the smallest bit of fear if he let himself be afraid. He chanced a glance up at the auctioneer, a human just like him. He wondered how anyone could sell out their own kind in a world like this. He dropped his eyes quickly and turned so that his body was laid open for the werewolves to study.

He’d done this too many times. He hated that he knew exactly what to do, exactly how to appease the werewolves looking to buy him. As the auctioneer called out a starting price - such a little number that Stiles felt whatever shred of dignity he’d had had been torn away - he tilted his head back, exposing the side of his neck, submitting. A low growl reached Stiles’ ears and he swallowed.

Immediately the bidding started up, quickly rising into the thousands. Stiles’ eyebrows rose in shock, surprise making him rock slightly, but he quickly fell still at the feel of the device on his neck. The price continued to hitch until someone shouted an outrageously high number and the room fell quiet. Even the auctioneer had fallen quiet in disbelief.

After several heartbeats, the auctioneer called, “Sold," and the room burst into whispers that everyone heard. Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes as he was prodded offstage by the same guard from before and brought to the holding room. He didn't dare raise his eyes as his new master stepped into the room, hovering over him. The guard handed over the device that controlled the electric currents Stiles had suffered earlier, mumbled a sarcastic "good luck," and moved to get the next person for auction.

"Come," his master commanded. His voice was deep, but somehow soft - gentle. Stiles’ gaze rose to the booted feet in front of him, following his steps to a limousine waiting outside. A large hand gripped his neck and forced him inside and Stiles stepped in quickly, moving to the other door, sitting, waiting, eyes downcast. His master climbed in after him, remaining silent for a few moments, studying Stiles. “You can look at me, you know," his master's voice mused. Stiles didn't look, though; he knew it was probably a test, and his new owner still held the device controlling the electric currents that could pulse through his neck. A sigh fell from the area his new master sat and he asked, “What’s your name?"

Quietly, hesitantly, knowing what his answer was supposed to be, Stiles murmured, “Whatever you want to call me." His new master heaved another, huskier sigh.

"I’m not like your other masters," he mused, eyes running over Stiles slowly. “I’m not going to be a bad master, I’m not going to hurt you. You can be your own person." Stiles closed his eyes quickly.

"Stiles," he whispered lowly, hoping the werewolf wouldn't hear but knowing that he would, “that’s what they tell me my name was." He spared a quick and nervous glance at his new master and drew a deep breath, staring in shock.

Dark onyx hair reached up off of his master's forehead, thick eyebrows shading hazel eyes, an observant frown pulling his lips into a thin line. His body was well muscled, his shirt taught against his chest and arms. Stiles looked down quickly, knowing he’d spent too much time looking at the other man.

"What do you mean that’s what they tell you?" his master asked quietly, trying to coax the answer out of him.

Softly, Stiles answered, “I don’t remember." The werewolf stared at him, and Stiles could almost feel his gaze burning into his skull.

"My name is Derek Hale," the werewolf stated. “At home, you can call me Derek. If Kate is around or we’re in public, you will call me Alpha Hale or Master." Stiles blinked. He was the property of an alpha?

Derek spent the rest of the ride trying to pry answers out of the reclusive human. Soon after he realized that the human wasn't going to cooperate, they arrived at Derek’s home. The werewolf stepped out of the limousine, looked back at Stiles and gestured for him to follow. The human hesitantly slid out of the limousine, eyes widening to take in the house he would be staying in now. Only it wasn't a house, it was a mansion. Stiles wondered what made the alpha need such a large home, and with a slight panic he wondered if he’d be expected to clean it all in one day.

Derek gripped his shoulder firmly, but with care, prompting Stiles to look up at the alpha in surprise. Stiles was used to being manhandled, thrown around, gripped tighter than human bones could stand, but Derek hadn't throw him around or hurt him so far. He gently guided the shocked human into the mansion, and as soon as the door closed and was locked behind him, he moved over to Stiles to remove the shock collar on his neck and throw it onto the pile next to the door. Stiles stared at it for a moment before realizing there were other slaves here - other high risk slaves. He looked up at Derek in wonder and confusion.

Derek paid him little attention, calling for his other slaves. Two of them shuffled forward - one a girl with blonde hair falling past her shoulders, staring at Stiles in surprise, while the other, a tall boy not much older than Stiles, stood at attention, waiting for his orders.

"Isaac, go and prepare a room for Stiles in the slave wing. I’m sure he needs rest before he gets into the swing of things." Isaac nodded and scurried off and Derek turned his attention to the other slave in front of him. “Erica," Derek called softly, causing her attention to snap back to him immediately. “I want you to show Stiles around. Only show him the public rooms and the slave wing." Derek then turned to Stiles, studying him for a moment. “The bedrooms are off-limits to you right now. Once I get things sorted and your chores in order, and clear things with Kate…" He hummed. “We’ll see." He then turned back to Erica. “She isn't to see him yet." She nodded quickly and grabbed Stiles’ hand to pull him away, only to elicit a growl from Derek. Her hand fell away quickly.

"Follow me," Erica whispered quietly, leading the way away from Derek. Stiles followed numbly, eyes flashing back to Derek. The alpha watched him with a possessiveness in his eyes and Stiles found himself wondering why the alpha had paid so much money for him. His gaze turned to Erica as she led him away, and once they were out of Derek’s sight and, Stiles hoped, his ear shot, he found his voice.

"Why am I here?" he asked weakly. She turned to him, eyes wide in shock.

"You don’t know?" she whispered, eyes flashing to the front hallway. He shook his head, biting his lip. Her eyes searched his and she shook her head, leading him away. “I’m not the one who should tell you, then."


	2. Home

Several days had passed after the first day Stiles had arrived at the Hale manor - with his master, Derek. The others were under strict orders not to let Stiles out of the slave wing in those first few days. During the night, Stiles could sometimes hear muffled yelling filling the house. It was loud, louder than he imagined any person could be, but he couldn’t make out the words.

On the fifth day, Derek came to visit him in his room. His hazel eyes were hard, nothing like they’d been the first day Stiles had arrived, and his arms were crossed over his chest, causing the muscles there to bulge under his black t-shirt. He stared at Stiles, cold and calculating, before saying, “You’ll be cleaning the bedroom Kate and I sleep in for now. Erica cooks, so when she’s done, you’ll clean up the kitchen." Stiles nodded mutely, dropping his gaze to the boots on Derek’s feet. Derek growled, a low sound in his throat, and strode over to Stiles, gripping his neck and pulling him up to his feet. Stiles couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him.

Derek stared down at the slave in his hands, nostrils flaring slightly. Stiles kept his eyes down and nearly closed as Derek stared him down, nearly cutting off his air supply in his grip. “If Kate asks you for something, you do it, or you get her what she wants. If she’s not happy with how well you’re doing, I can’t guarantee you a home here." His grip on Stiles’s neck fell away and Stiles stumbled before falling to his knees. “And don’t act all meek. You’ll look at us when we talk to you." Stiles hesitantly raised his gaze to the alpha. “Don’t forget you’re our slave. You’ll respect us, even if we don’t respect you," the werewolf sneered and left.

Stiles struggled to his feet, grabbing the bed tightly, gasps of air flowing into his lungs. He looked up to see Isaac at the door.

"C’mon," the slave murmured. “I’ll show you the bedroom." Stiles nodded slowly and followed the taller man through the mansion, up to the second floor, past more doors than Stiles cared to count. Isaac paused next to one, listened for a moment before opening the door. Stiles gaped at the mess inside.

"It happens, when they fight," Isaac murmured, staring at the mess Stiles was left to clean. “Which is often. Kate will throw things, and Derek will rip them apart." He rubbed his neck and a strangled laugh came out. “I have to go shopping with her almost every week." Stiles looked up at him.

“I’m Kate’s, you see. Her playtoy, whenever Derek’s not around, is giving her the cold shoulder, or she’s just tired of him." He winced slightly. “Not the funnest job." He turned his back to the room.

Stiles noticed the bruise at the edge of his jaw. “Derek’s territorial, even if he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about Kate."

Stiles swallowed. “Should you be saying that?" he whispered. Isaac laughed at that.

"He’s not gonna do anything. Kate would be on him. He can hit me, sure, but if he actually hurt me, broke a bone or something…" He fell silent.

“You better get to work. I’ll be downstairs helping Erica in the kitchen if you need anything, any help, or…" He nodded at Stiles then and left back the way they had come. Stiles watched him for a minute before turning to the room, sighing and stepping in quietly.

His lips pursed at the mess, a fight evident. With a small hum, he moved to the bed, collecting the feathers of a torn pillow there and finding a trash can to throw them in. He then made the bed, arranging the odd numbered pillows as best he could before moving to pick up the rest of the feathers that had fallen to the floor or that had been thrown else where. The room was large, and the mess was everywhere.

He sighed and started straightening out the surfaces and whatever lay on them - perfumes and what not on top of the chest of drawers, in front of the mirror, and some other items thrown haphazardly over the surfaces. He then moved into the adjacent bathroom, frowning at even more mess. With a soft sigh, he began to clean, looking under the sink to find a cleaning rag and trash bags. He grabbed the rag and cleaned the mirror, moving back into the room to clean the mirror over the chest of drawers as well.

He knew the routine oh so well. If you asked, you got hurt. If you didn’t do something, you got hurt. Stiles had the lash marks to prove it. He rubbed his back lightly, flinching at the feel of his hand across the sore and bruised area. He felt like it’d never stop hurting. With a light sigh, he grabbed a trash bag, gathered the trash, and started for the door, hoping there was nothing he’d left behind. He turned to it and froze, his first instinct was to drop his gaze, but he remembered Derek’s snarl from before. He stared steadily at the woman in the doorway, drinking her in.

She had light brown hair and greenish eyes that analyzed him with a maliciousness he didn’t think he’d ever seen before. She stood in the doorway, claws nearly digging gouges in the wood of the door sill.

"So he’s made you clean our room," she breathed, nearly growling. Stiles tried not to balk at her obvious anger. “What’s he told you then?" Stiles blinked, unsure of what the werewolf meant.

"My chores are to clean the room and the kitchen when Erica is done with it," Stiles whispered, fighting the urge to lower his eyes. The woman laughed then, a crazy and angry laugh that wracked Stiles with fear. His gaze dropped quickly and she strode forward, grasping his jaw none too lightly, and Stiles had the feeling there would be bruises there. He fought a whimper as her grip tightened and he understood, if this was really Kate, why Derek was married to her. They were too alike.

"I don’t need you," she growled. “You’re nothing, a pathetic little slave. Derek will realize. He’ll send you back." She threw him aside, causing him to lose his grip on the bag. She then kicked it away and upturned it, causing the trash and feathers he’d collected to fly over the room. He kept his gaze low, hoping she wouldn’t turn her frustrations on him.

Just as she turned back to him, someone cleared their throat in the door way. She looked up, growling, before softening to find Isaac standing there, looking weak. “Please," he murmured, and she nodded, aiming a kick at Stiles’s stomach before turning and leaving the room, pulling Isaac along with her. He shot him an apologetic glance and Stiles shook his head, signaling that he was grateful and not angry. Moaning weakly, he pulled himself to his feet, cleaning up the feathers and trash and stuffing it back in the bag. With a heavy sigh, he left the room slowly, passing by a door and hearing animalistic growls from behind it. He cringed and knew he would have to thank Isaac properly, later.

He made his way downstairs and Erica showed him where the bigger trash cans were. Once finished, he helped her in the kitchen. She told him that the woman he’d met was, indeed, Kate and that she was every bit territorial over Derek as he was over her. Erica still would not tell Stiles why he was here and the weight of not knowing was beginning to press on his shoulders.

Erica glanced at the time, cursed and began scrambling to make dinner. Stiles watched her for a moment before she gestured to the cupboard behind him. “Make the tea, quickly." He scrambled to get the tea pot as she filled a small pot with water and left it to boil before moving to work on what Stiles guessed was dinner for the night. He grabbed tea bags out of the same cupboard, placing them into the pot with the strings hanging out, and once the water was boiling he poured it into the pot and waited.

Just as he was sure the tea was ready and dropped the tea bags into the trash can next to the counter, the door in the hall opened and slammed shut. Derek Hale slipped into the kitchen, shrugging out of his jacket. He looked… business-y. Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, but Derek was dressed in business-like clothes that he quickly pulled off, leaving on his pants and the black shirt Stiles had seen him in earlier.

Stiles hurried to grab a mug for Derek’s tea, pouring him some as the alpha walked over. “Thank you, Stiles," Derek said, and Stiles looked up at him and nodded. Derek paused and gripped his chin, gently, pulling his face first one way and then the other. “What happened?" he questioned, voice soft, nothing like it had been that morning. Stiles fought a frown. Derek studied the marks on his jaw before placing a hand on Stiles’s chest and pushing him away. Stiles barely whimpered as the movement twisted his abdomen and pain flared in his stomach. Derek noticed immediately, hand falling away before gripping Stiles’s shoulder and pulling his shirt up, sucking in a breath at the angry, glaring bruise that was forming there.

He turned to Erica and Stiles could see the anger ticking in the way his jaw clenched and unclenched. “Was it Kate?" She looked up at him and nodded slowly. A deep growl fell from the alpha’s lips and he stormed out of the kitchen.

"She’s with Isaac!" Erica cried. Derek growled back and she turned to Stiles.

“I need to finish. You need to get Isaac out of there or he’s going to get hurt."

Slightly panicked, Stiles nodded and hurried after Derek, catching up to him as he stalked up to the door of the room Stiles had heard the wolf growls earlier. The door slammed open and Stiles flinched, backing away slightly. He hadn’t even seen Derek push it open. He peered into the room, saw Isaac pulling off the bed, Kate standing at the edge of it, glaring at Derek with the same maliciousness Stiles had seen in her eyes earlier.

"How  _dare_ you?" Derek growled.

"Me?" she laughed, the same creepy laugh as earlier. “You think you have the right to ask me that!? You brought this… this thing into my house! Trying to replace me with him!"

"You want to start with that!?" Derek yelled back. “As if you think I don’t realize what you do with Isaac, when you  _reek_ of him!" Stiles started then, realizing why he was there. He slipped in quietly as Derek and Kate continued to yell back and forth, grabbing Isaac’s arm carefully, trying to tug him from the room, which fell silent but was soon thickened with the sound of two separate growls. Stiles dropped Isaac’s arm quickly, staring at the werewolves, nearly panicking.

"Stiles," Derek started, glancing at Isaac.

"Don’t you dare touch him!" Kate nearly screamed. She took a threatening step forward and Derek grabbed her arm and threw her back into the wall. He glanced at the humans, eyes falling to Stiles.

"Get out," he said gruffly. “Both of you, get out now." Kate snarled and Derek turned back to her and Stiles, who for the first time that he was aware of, witnessed a werewolf shifting toward his wolf side. Isaac grabbed Stiles’s arm and shoved him toward the door.

"Get out, quick," Isaac muttered to him. Stiles spared another glance to see both of the werewolves in a state of half-change and Isaac shoved him once again, effectively getting Stiles out of the room.

"Take care of him," Stiles heard, and Isaac nodded stiffly, pulling Stiles back to his room. Stiles stared up at Isaac in shock.

"Does that-" he started.

"Often," Isaac muttered, gesturing for Stiles to sit on the bed.

“I’ll be right back." Stiles nodded numbly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Isaac came back with a wet towel and a bandage wrap.

“Take off your shirt and lay on your back." Stiles hesitated and he heard Isaac growl softly. He smiled slightly, figuring Isaac had been around the Hales for an awfully long time. He slipped his shirt off, stomach twinging, flinching at the pain before sighing and laying back. Isaac slowly moved over, wiping Stiles’s jaw, chest and stomach before starting to wrap the bandage around his chest.

"It’ll help with the movement," Isaac murmured. “And just in case something was seriously hurt or broken, we have to help let it set. It’s gonna take a while for Derek and Kate to calm down. Derek will take you to the hospital to get checked out, eventually." Stiles frowned and watched Isaac start to leave.

"Wait," he called softly. Isaac stalled at the door, looking back at Stiles. “Wait with me?" Isaac frowned for a moment. “I just… I don’t remember a whole lot before my last auction wait, and I feel… I just need someone to talk with." Isaac’s frown deepened for a moment before he nodded slowly.

"I’ll just get us some dinner first and then I’ll come and talk to you." Stiles nodded slowly and the slave left.


	3. Hospital

Isaac came back not long after, carrying a tray of food. Stiles sat up carefully with Isaac helping him, for the other didn't even want him to move without help for fear of something going wrong inside him. And while Stiles did feel a few twinges of pain, he didn't think anything was actually wrong with him.

They talked for a while, mostly about Isaac's life at the Hale manor, what Kate was like on her good days, and what kind of business Derek did. Isaac wouldn't tell Stiles why he was here, the same as Erica. 

Their talk was mostly light, but at some point Isaac asked Stiles of his life before and an uneasy feeling washed over the slave. With a soft voice he explained to Isaac that he didn't remember much of his life, just taking care of the house while his previous master worked. Isaac accepted this with a quiet hum, studying Stiles for a moment before turning his gaze to the wall.

"I've always been Kate's," he said. "Since the moment my dad put me up for sale. He hated me, after my mum died, and he sold me as quick as he could." Stiles frowned, studying him, and wondered about his own parents. Did they sell him? Did they hate him, like Isaac's dad hated him? As he fell deeper into his thoughts, Isaac stood, going still for a moment before leaving. Stiles watched him until he passed silently through the door, where a menacing and slightly bloody Derek stood, his glowering gaze centered on the slim boy in front of him. Stiles struggled to sit up, and Derek took an automatic step forward.

Stiles shook his head quickly and stood, grabbing some of the gauze Isaac had left behind and moving over to the brooding werewolf, wiping some of the blood off of his cheek. "You shouldn't walk around like that," Stiles muttered. "It's important to keep yourself clean. People will like you better." Derek's hand caught Stiles' wrist, stopping him from his anxious scrubbing.

"Are you trying to tell me, or are you reciting your lessons?" Derek asked quietly. Stiles' gaze fell to the floor before he pulled his wrist away to clean Derek's cuts, which were already healing. Derek simply let him, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. Once Stiles had managed to clean away the blood from Derek's visible areas, Derek grabbed the gauze, tossed it in the trash and took Stiles' arm, leading him from his room and out of the slave wing. Stiles knew better than to ask, but from what Isaac had told him earlier, he was pretty sure he knew where he was going. 

Derek didn't say anything, just dragged him to a garage filled with cars. In the back of Stiles' mind he wondered why on Earth the alpha had cars when he had a limousine that drove him everywhere, but he figured that a limo was too flashy for a hospital trip. Stiles didn't even think he needed one, and he wondered why he was even going. He'd only ever been once before, and that was only when he was on the brink of death. He was nowhere close to that, he knew, and he didn't feel like anything was broken. 

The ride to the hospital was awkward, and quiet. The angry look never quite left Derek's face, but relief crept up after they were a mile or two from the Hale mansion. The way he looked made him look years younger to Stiles, and he studied the look on his master's face openly, only looking away when the older glanced at him.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked, which, Stiles figured, was about the nicest things one of his masters had ever asked him. Not that he remembered a whole lot of questions, but it still felt like it. Stiles shrugged mutely, because he felt fine, but he was confused and very, very tired. He figured if he tried to take a nap everyone would freak out and think he had a concussion and was about to slip into a coma or something.

Derek parked near Emergency, climbing out of the car within seconds of turning it off. He made his way to Stiles' door before Stiles could start to pull on the lever to open it, pulling it open and pulling Stiles into Derek's arms before Stiles knew what was happening. Stiles gaped at Derek, but the werewolf didn't even look at him, carrying him into the Emergency room. He plopped him into a chair, made a short grunting noise that generally meant, "Stay," as far as Stiles was concerned, and walked up to the counter.

Stiles watched him, then glanced at the woman behind the counter. She looked up at Derek with a spark of recognition and Stiles wondered how many times the werewolf had to come to the ER.

"Melissa," Derek said simply, and the woman nodded curtly. She handed Derek a form and he set to filling it out. Her gaze wandered over to Stiles and she froze, eyes going wide, before dropping her gaze quickly and taking the paper from Derek. Stiles stared at her, confused, as Derek made his way back to the human. He sat without a word to the slave, filling out paperwork without consulting Stiles once. Stiles studied his master for a moment before looking back to the woman to find her staring at him. She looked away quickly and he studied her curiously. After a while, Derek stood and handed the form back to Melissa.

"Where'd you find him?" She muttered to Derek. Stiles, unable to hear, turned his attention to the television in the room.

"Where do you think?" Derek murmured darkly. Melissa scowled at him. "He was at one of the auctions. I hadn't meant to get anyone, but I saw him and... some people were discussing him and I couldn't let them have him."

Melissa studied the alpha for a moment. "Scott will want to know." Derek shook his head.

"I'll tell him, but right now I need Stiles." Melissa frowned and looked away, clicking through her computer. As Derek turned to make his way back to Stiles, she spoke.

"Is this about Kate?" she murmured. Derek looked down, a slight smile on his lips because of course Melissa McCall would figure it out. 

With a slight nod, Derek murmured, "Somewhat," and made his way back to Stiles.

Stiles looked up at his master, then glanced at the woman at the counter. She had a kind of warm familiarity and Stiles wondered if he'd known her before. Before he could tell his master how he felt, the broody werewolf took his hand, rubbing his free hand against Stiles' arm in a comforting manner. Stiles' eyebrows shot up and his mouth gaped in surprise, but his master said nothing, staring up at the tv as if the show was actually interesting.

It was, of course. Stiles loved those kind of shows - the drama inducing kind of shows where people pointed fingers at people that may or may not be the father of the child that wasn't there. Stiles always watched with rapt interest, although he never exactly purposely watched those shows. If they were on, however, he'd watch for hours before he even realized what he was doing. It was a bit of a guilty pleasure for him, but he didn't often get to do it. Being a slave did come with TV restrictions.

Stiles glanced at the tv, then up at Derek, studying him quietly, but the man didn't notice - or if he did, he didn't acknowledge Stiles at all. The silence was almost deafening, but Stiles didn't dare say anything. Which was ridiculous because he felt the need to say something, but he knew if he said something wrong Derek might actually give him a reason to be in the hospital.

So the silence continued until Stiles was called back. Derek let go of his hand, instead gripping his arm as he led him to where a nurse was waiting for them. Stiles' arm was taken, wrapped in a velcro sleeve to take his blood pressure while the nurse took his temperature and checked his eyes as Derek told her what had transpired between the helpless human and his bitch of a wife.

Stiles stared up at his master in shock, surprised that Derek had said something so harsh about his wife, but the werewolf wasn't looking at him. Instead, he watched every movement the nurse made as she checked Stiles for things Stiles wasn't sure existed.

After a while, Stiles was led to a room, and after that multiple tests were done to make sure that he was, in fact, fine. Derek pulled the doctor aside, whispering to him in a low voice that Stiles couldn't hear no matter how much he strained his ears.

Damn werewolves.

After Derek seemed satisfied with the doctor's answer, he moved back to Stiles' side as the doctor announced to them that Stiles was free to go. Stiles pursed his lips as Derek thanked the doctor, pulling Stiles' clothes out for him to change into, refusing to let Stiles help himself. Stiles couldn't help the blush that blotched his cheeks as Derek pulled his clothes on, making sure not to make eye contact with the werewolf. Stiles wasn't ready to risk his life just to comment how awkward the situation was.

Derek's hands grazed over faint scars, and his eyes flashed red, causing Stiles to flinch back automatically. He cowered away, breathing suddenly labored, before being pulled tightly to Derek's chest, being held there as Derek carried the human out of the hospital. The werewolf sent a silent look to Melissa as he passed by her, and she nodded briefly, an unhappy look on her face. Stiles watched her as they passed by, then looked up at his master, each breath coming easier as he listened to the werewolf's heart beat steady.

The werewolf carried him easily to the car they had come in, tucking him inside and wrapping the seat belt around him. Stiles started to protest because not only did he hate feeling weak, he was Derek's slave. Why should Derek do so much for him?

Derek just gave him a glare that silenced him. Stiles looked down at the hands in his lap as Derek crossed the car, climbing in and starting the drive back to his mansion.

"You're quiet," he mumbled. Stiles looked up at him, then out of the window.

"I didn't know I was allowed to say anything," he murmured. Derek snorted and opened his mouth like he had a sarcastic retort, but he paused and his mouth closed. 

After a moment, Derek said quietly, "You can say anything you want, Stiles." The slave blinked several times as Derek continued, "I mean it. I won't hurt you for speaking what's on your mind, and if Kate tries to lay a finger on you I'll tear her apart."

Again, Stiles fell into a shocked silence, staring at his master in shock. She was his mate, wasn't she? Would he really attack her just for hitting a slave?

Derek went on. "She'll heal, of course, but hopefully she'll learn her lesson." And Stiles heard that lesson loud and clear: _don't mess with me, I'm the alpha._

Stiles just nodded. Silence pervaded the car as Derek drove, eventually pulling into the mansion grounds. Isaac appeared to put the car in the garage as Derek led the way back into the house, Stiles following mutely behind him.

With a sigh, Derek turned to Stiles. The smaller looked up at him, at the exasperated look on his face, and bit his lip, slightly anxious about what would happen next.

"You're too quiet," Derek almost hissed, pulling Stiles against him. Stiles blinked, tense, but Derek didn't make any signs of letting him go. Stiles felt his master nuzzle his hair, breathe him in. "If I have to command you to speak your mind, to stop acting like this, I will," Derek muttered, before letting Stiles go. "Go back to your room and lay down," he went on in the same tone of voice. "Don't worry about cleaning the room, I'll have Erica do it." Stiles nodded numbly and Derek scowled slightly, but he didn't say anything, just gestured for Stiles to leave. The slave started toward his room, glancing up the stairs to see Kate, her eyes flashing blue for a second as she glared down at him. He stared back defiantly, because now he knew he had nothing to be afraid of from her. Derek would deal with Kate.

He squared his shoulders, staring up at his master's mate, and heard a small huff of laughter from where Derek still stood. Kate's eyes flashed to her mate in a murderous glare, and Stiles sensed a fight was about to break out again, so he hurried into the slave wing and into his room.

That was stupid of him, he berated himself. He shouldn't have acted so brazenly; he hadn't even thought of the consequences of his action until he heard a snarl through his door. He quickly backed up to his bed, falling back onto it as his legs hit the edge. After a second, he pulled the covers up over him, scooting until his back hit the wall, his eyes on the door as he waited, anxiety filling him, hoping that his stupidity wouldn't bring either his master or his master's mate's wrath down on him.

Stiles wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he woke to find himself being pulled into the arms of a slightly damp, well built man. His whole body tensed, eyes going wide, fear pulsing through him as he felt his shirt being removed, and he opened his mouth to - what, scream? He wasn't even sure what he would have done, but he felt hands caress his cheeks and he looked up to see Derek's concerned face studying him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Derek whispered, just loud enough for Stiles to hear, but that didn't help Stiles' nerves at all. Derek pursed his lips, then gently flipped Stiles, pulling the slighter's back against his chest. One of Derek's hands moved until it rested in the middle of Stiles' chest - whether to keep Stiles there or just for comfort, Stiles wasn't sure. Stiles stared at the wall as Derek's breath ghosted against his neck. After a while, Derek's deep breathing evened out, and Stiles was sure he'd fallen asleep.

Stiles continued to scrutinize the wall in front of him as Derek's arms kept him in his warm embrace. The room was filled with Derek's breathing as it mingled with Stiles until the slave realized that their breathing was in sync with each other. Slowly, as Stiles became more sure that Derek wasn't there to assault him, his body relaxed, pressing him closer to the warmth that was the alpha werewolf. Stiles closed his eyes against the sight of the wall, already having memorized every stroke the roller had done as the paint was applied there.

When Stiles woke, Derek was gone, and he came to the realization that the only reason he'd woken up was because Derek was no longer there. He looked around the room, biting his lip, and saw a pair of clothes that looked comfortable to him - not the normal slave attire. He stood, legs shaking only slightly as he took the clothes - a pair of jeans and a navy shirt with a target printed on it. Stiles raised his eyebrow at the target, but slipped the clothes on anyways. They fit him almost perfectly and he wondered where they'd come from - and why he was wearing them, instead of what slaves normally wore.

There was a knock at the door and suddenly Erica was there, smiling with her teeth, although she didn't look particularly happy. "Hey, Batman," she muttered. "Time to get to work."

Stiles raised his eyebrow at her but nodded, following her out of the room. She led him into the kitchen. 

"I've been placed on bedroom duty," she grumbled, giving him the smallest of glares, "so you'll be working the kitchen. Derek likes a cup of coffee every morning before he leaves for work, and a cup of tea every day when he comes home. The coffee maker automatically goes on when he's getting ready, so all you need to do is get it in his cup and get it to him. He likes it black, but with two packets of sugar." She nodded toward the pink artificial sweeteners next to the coffee maker. "After that's done you clean up, do any other chores you've got, make lunch for us and wait until quitting time to make the tea for Derek." She nodded at an assembled assortment of tea making items and Stiles nodded slowly. "When you start running out let Derek know and he'll give you the permission to go shopping. We're usually pretty well stocked up, but if anything else is running out, you should buy them then." Stiles nodded slowly. "Kate doesn't hang around much during the day, and she's nearly never hungry around dinner time." She gave Stiles a look that said the nasty woman was still in the house and they'd discuss it later. "So you're usually only cooking for us and Derek. Like I said earlier, you cook lunch for us, then around dinner you cook us a seperate meal. Usually around holidays Derek likes to eat with everyone, so around those times you'll make a single type of dinner for all of us, including Kate. Don't worry about being overwhelmed, though. If you need help I'm sure I can get off cleaning duty." At that she rubbed her hands together, like she couldn't wait.

She took a deep breath then, apologizing for unloading so much new information on him before announcing she had to leave and making her way up the stairs. Stiles looked around the kitchen and moved to start cleaning up from Derek's coffee and to start making lunch for the slaves. After a moment's pondering, he decided to make an extra plate in case Kate hadn't left, just so she wouldn't get angry that he hadn't.

The last thing he needed right now was for the bitch (dog pun intended) to get on his case for something he wasn't supposed to do anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look, I got the thing done.  
> I'm sorry that this has taken so long. I understand if you hate me. I can't promise that I'll be better with updating, but I've finally gotten myself out of my funk a little so I'll try. It's all thanks to ao3 user ravingrevolution and her Posing Problems series. Which, if you haven't read them, I highly recommend them to you. They're wonderful. They inspired me to get back to this, and also her Stiles is the best Stiles and not even the real Stiles could convince me otherwise.  
> byyyyy the way~  
> I don't have a beta anymore. So, if anyone's willing to take up the spot, I'd love you forever. If not, I'm sure I'll manage. So sorry if things don't flow right, I love you all~  
> Also, I'm sorry these are so short. I'm trying to get better at that.


	4. An Unexpected Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone pointed out to me that I'd paired Isaac/Stiles and not Kate/Isaac. It wasn't a mistake... but Kate/Isaac wasn't a pairing until I added it.
> 
> Come on fanpeople. How do you have Peter/Isaac but you don't have Kate/Isaac??  
> (by the way, ew. Peter with anyone is ew. HE'S OLD PEOPLE. OLD.)

Stiles set the table for lunch, faint memories reminding him where the cutlery went on each side of the plate. He studied the table for a moment before moving to the dining room to set a different place setting for Kate. He left her plate there and went to find her, only to find that she was with Isaac. He glanced at the room where he could see Erica working, pursed his lips and knocked on the door faintly. All sound ceased and after a moment, Kate appeared at the door, hair disheveled, pulling her shirt back down.

She took one look at Stiles and scowled. "What do you want,  _slave?"_  Stiles took a moment to breathe deeply, trying not to reply with one of the snarky comebacks he had to say to that.

"I made you lunch," he said, looking her in the eye evenly. "It's in the dining room."

She sneered. "What did you do, spit in it?" Stiles made a face at her.

"I'm not twelve." She huffed at him and he turned to walk away. "Eat it or don't eat it, it's not my choice. I made you food when I wasn't supposed to so you've nothing to complain about." And wasn't he lucky that Derek had basically said he'd kill Kate because if that threat wasn't hanging in the air Stiles was ninety percent sure he'd be bleeding out on the carpet and wouldn't Erica be pissed at  _that_  cleaning job. And the other ten percent was that he'd already be dead.

He turned, moving into the bedroom to tell Erica lunch was ready, before walking out into the hallway to see Isaac straightening his slave clothes, glancing at Stiles and raising an eyebrow at the clothes Stiles wore. Stiles shrugged slightly and repeated his message, leading the way to the kitchen as Isaac trailed behind him.  Isaac sat as Stiles set a plate in front of him and Erica made her way into the kitchen, hair tied up and sleeves pushed up to her elbows. She grinned at the boys and sat, tearing into the food before Stiles could finish putting it down in front of her. 

He smiled slightly, got his own plate and sat down as Erica delved into a deep explanation of the goings on from last night. She grumbled quietly about claws and fangs for a moment before glancing toward the dining room and falling silent. A moment later, the garage door slammed, and a car turned on, pulled out of the garage and left. After that, Erica let out a slew of angry curses, most of them aimed at Kate. Any aimed at Derek were good natured and, Stiles could tell, with a sense of fondness Stiles didn't realize slaves could even feel toward their masters.

Erica saw the look on Stiles' face and she smiled. "Derek isn't really like a master unless there's company, you know?" Stiles shook his head slowly. Erica paused for a moment, lips pursed, analyzing Stiles. "You really don't remember anything?" Stiles shot a glance at Isaac, who lowered his gaze shamefully. Stiles looked back at Erica, who smiled kindly. "Derek's a good guy. Sometimes he can be an asshole, but..." Stiles thought back to the morning where Derek had ordered him to look Derek and Kate in the eyes when they were talking to him and nodded. "He cares, even if he doesn't show it all the time."

"They were going to put us down," Isaac said quietly. Stiles' eyes snapped to Isaac's face as he poked at his food with his fork. "We were in the high risk section, just like you, only we weren't as desirable. They'd been trying to sell us for a few months, but no one was buying. They told us this would be our last auction, and if we didn't get bought, we'd be killed." Stiles listened with a morbid expression on his face. "Derek overheard the guard telling one of his co-workers he couldn't wait to see it, and so he ended up buying both of us within seconds of us being put up for auction." After a second, Isaac popped a piece of asparagus into his mouth, chewing slowly, obviously no longer willing to talk.

The three of them ate in silence for a few moments, but something began to nag at Stiles' consciousness as he took a roll from the basket. "You said you weren't as desirable," he finally mumbled, looking up at Isaac. The taller's complexion paled and he looked up at Erica, who lowered her fork. Stiles looked between them, before continuing, "Why am I desirable?"

Erica sighed softly, glancing at Stiles, opening her mouth to speak before the phone rang. She grinned and jumped up, moving to get the phone, sighing in relief when she glanced at the caller ID. She picked up the phone, pressed the answer button and breathed out, "Derek." She paused for a moment, a flash of irritation on her face, before glancing at Stiles. "No, it's not something that's important right now." She paused again, listening, before another irritated look flashed across her face and she nodded. "Alright." Another pause. "No, he's already dressed. Yeah, in those clothes. No, she left. Stiles made her lunch -" she paused abruptly, a cross look on her face. "Ask him, alright!? Sheesh! No, you stop. He's ready for whenever you get here." After a moment she hung up and returned to the table to start cleaning up. "Derek is coming to pick you up in about ten minutes."

Stiles raised an eyebrow at her in question and she shrugged, continuing to clean up. Stiles stood to help her but she put a hand on his shoulder. "Isaac and I will take care of it. You should go get your collar on." Stiles paused, suddenly remembering that was a thing, and he was supposed to wear it. He sighed softly, standing and moving into the main hall and to the bowl where the shock collars were. He untangled his from the others carefully, unhooking the corresponding device and setting it aside as he figured out how the collar hooked before putting it on. It chaffed uncomfortably on his neck, just above the junction where his neck met his shoulders.

After a moment Erica stepped out, putting her own collar on, taking Stiles' device and leading him outside as the limo pulled up. She moved to the other side, handing the device to Derek through his window before moving back to Stiles, opening his door and waiting patiently for him to get in. She then closed the door and moved back inside, but as the door to the house closed Stiles saw Erica reach for her collar, an uncomfortable look on her face.

Stiles turned to look at Derek, who was looking out of his window. Stiles chewed on his lip for a moment, then said, "Where are we going?" Derek glanced at him, a broody look on his face, before glancing out of his window.

"This wasn't my decision," Derek mumbled after a while. "I was kind of forced into this situation. I wanted to wait, especially after I found out that you couldn't remember anything." He turned a sharp look on Stiles. "If you feel uncomfortable, if you feel overwhelmed... Let me know. I'll get you out of there." Confusion contorted Stiles' face, and he searched Derek's eyes for an answer, but the alpha's eyes were pensive and he looked away after a moment. "Do you remember what to call me?"

"Master or Alpha Hale," Stiles recited to him. Derek nodded slowly, looking down at his hands. Stiles looked down at his own.

After a moment, after getting tired of the silence, Stiles spoke. "Everyone keep's telling me there's this big reason for why I'm here," he mumbled. Derek's face got impossibly more broody, and Stiles wondered if he had a constipation problem. "Why did you buy me, Derek?" he questioned. 

Silence.

_Werewolves._

Stiles glared out of his window, anger filling him, making him shake. A hand took his, and Stiles turned his glare on the stupid werewolf, but the look on his face made Stiles' anger fade. He looked terrified; he looked  _lost._  Stiles frowned slightly and looked down at the hand holding his, but the werewolf didn't pull away, and didn't say anything, so Stiles said nothing, just let it happen.

After a while, the limo pulled up in front of a tall building. Derek let go of Stiles' hand, lips pursing. "Get out and open the door for me." Stiles' eyes widened slightly and Derek sighed softly. "You're my slave, Stiles. You have to act like one." Stiles nodded quickly because of course. It was easy to forget you were on the bottom of the social ladder when the guy on top is holding your hand. He stepped out, eyes downcast, trying to ignore the flashing lights as he moved to the other side of the car and opened the door for Derek. He stepped out, giving Stiles the slightest of upturned lips that he doubted anyone else would see, and then started into the building, slipping the shock device into his pocket slowly, so that everyone would see. Stiles walked a little behind him, eyes down, moving quickly to grab the door so that Derek could walk inside. He didn't look up at the catcalls - paparazzi whistling at him, calling him ("Slave, slave look here!") and generally trying to get his attention so that he could look up. He hurried after Derek, trying his hardest not to look back.

"I don't bring my slaves to social places," Derek muttered. "Some were questioning that I even owned any." Stiles made a face.

"So I'm making a statement?" he muttered angrily. Derek shook his head quickly, taking Stiles' arm and leading him into the elevator, waiting for the doors to close and the elevator to start moving before turning to the angry slave.

"You're not here to prove that I own slaves, Stiles," Derek muttered. 

"Then why am I here?" Stiles growled.

Derek pursed his lips, glancing at the camera, then at his watch. "You're here because it's necessary." Stiles sighed dramatically.

"I hate werewolves." At that, Derek laughed, a brief, bark like sound that made the slighter look at Derek in shock for a moment before his gaze turned into a glare. He glared at the metal doors until the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Derek took Stiles by the arm again, leading him past desks and cubicles and into a room blocked off from everyone else. He nodded at a man in the corner, who had dark skin and a similar broody look on his face. Stiles wondered vaguely if it was a male werewolf thing as the guy stepped out of the room.

"That's Boyd," Derek muttered. "He's my vice president. I don't have many secrets with him." Stiles scowled. Derek had a lot of secrets, it seemed. He wondered if Boyd actually knew anything.

He wondered if he could get Boyd to tell him why he was here.

After a minute, Boyd reappeared, a man following him. He had tan skin, brown eyes and a slanted jaw that almost made Stiles snicker. Regardless, he was still kind of attractive, and when he saw Stiles his whole face lit up. Stiles smiled slightly in return, unable to help himself, and vaguely he thought that this guy's significant other was really freaking lucky. Before he could even wonder why he thought that, however, the guy pulled him into a hug, a slightly crushing one that definitely made Stiles aware that this guy was a werewolf.

His gaze flicked to Derek, to the apprehensive look on his face, but the other studied the interaction without a word. The man hugging him let go and Stiles' attention snapped to his face, but the joy that had been there wasn't there anymore. He studied Stiles, a frown slowly forming, before he glanced at Derek, then Boyd, then back to Stiles. "Stiles, it's me." Stiles just stared at him, and yeah, he was definitely frowning now. Stiles was vaguely reminded of a puppy. "It's me, Scott McCall." Stiles shook his head slowly, the name not bringing forward any memories.

"He lost his memories -” Derek started, but before he could continue Scott let out a feral growl, glaring at Derek with red eyes. Stiles instinctively cringed away, backing into the door, crying out in shock when his back hit the doorknob. A little pain flared out through his back where he'd hit the door, but it wasn't crippling or anything. Regardless, there were suddenly two snarling alphas in front of him. He looked up at Boyd in shock, but when the other tried to move toward them both started snarling at him. He stepped back quickly and the snarling was back between the alphas, Derek glaring down at Scott while Scott glared back, his hand on Stiles' arm as he growled up at the other alpha.

"Stop!" Stiles yelled, and suddenly all the attention was on him. The snarling had stopped, but Boyd stood at attention, waiting in case he had to get in and get Stiles out of the way. Stiles looked between the two alphas, at the worry in their eyes, before placing a hand on Derek's chest and pushing him away slightly. The wolf's face tightened, and Stiles could tell he was hurt by the gesture, but he turned to Scott, taking in the worried and yet slightly smug look on his face and pursing his lips. "I don't..." He faltered. "You know me. And Derek... wouldn't have brought me here if you didn't." He pursed his lips for a moment. "But I don't remember you." He put his hands up when the alpha opened his mouth to talk. "I can't... I don't think I can handle this right now. With both of you. You're about ready to tear his throat out when Derek's done nothing but take care of me." He faltered slightly when he thought of the morning when he'd gotten his first orders, but he remained firm.

"I can hear your heart beat," Scott murmured. Stiles scowled slightly.

"Okay, so there was this one morning." Guilt flashed over Derek's face and his eyes flashed down to the area where Stiles had been hurt. Scott followed his gaze, then glared up at Derek. 

"You hurt him!?" he started, eyes flashing, and again, Stiles cowered away.

"No!" Derek growled back, taking a defensive stance. Stiles held up his hands quickly.

"Don't." Their eyes flashed to him, but their anger didn't fade. Stiles looked up at Scott. "Derek's wife is the devil incarnate, but that's neither here nor there. The point is that he took care of me and I don't feel any pain at all." Derek smiled slightly, a genuine smile Stiles was absolutely positive that only he'd noticed. Scott glanced at him accusingly.

"You pain drained him." Derek shrugged, clearly not denying it, and Stiles' eyebrows furled in confusion.

"He what?" Scott opened his mouth to explain, but Stiles shook his head. "No, don't. I have a feeling it will take a long time to explain, and I don't want to get into it right now. I just... Need a moment to adjust."

"I'm sure you'd feel better if you didn't have a shock collar." Scott shot another accusing glance at Derek, but the alpha glanced meaningfully at the camera hanging in the corner. Scott just scowled at him and Stiles sighed, looking at Derek.

"I don't want to be here."

Derek nodded at that and stepped forward, taking Stiles' arm, eliciting a growl from Scott, but Derek pulled Stiles close, glaring his challenge down at the smaller. 

"Stop," Stiles muttered. He looked at Scott. "Stop." The werewolf looked at him and fell back, looking defeated. He looked up at Derek.

"I'm going to come see him. I'm going to help him remember." Derek just stared at him, before pulling Stiles back out into the area with all the cubicles and desks and to the elevator. Once in it, Derek pulled Stiles close again, and the pain Stiles felt in his back from where he'd bumped against the door knob fade. His eyebrows meshed together and he looked up at the werewolf.

"How do you do that?"

"It's a werewolf thing," Derek whispered, not meeting the human's gaze. "I'm sorry about that. I told him you wouldn't be ready for that confrontation, but he... has a way with others that would have forced more dire consequences." Stiles studied the alpha before shaking his head. 

"No, it's okay," he replied. "You did what you had to." His master watched the floor numbers as they ticked by, letting Stiles go just before they opened, leading him back out into the foray of paparazzi trying to get pictures. Stiles opened Derek's doors without a word, closing the limo door before moving to get in on the other side. He glanced back into the building, seeing Scott walk out with some of the attention turning to him, but most of the paparazzi were leaving now that Derek was gone. Stiles looked up at the werewolf sitting next to him, but he had his classic broody face on. Stiles bit his lip and turned to watch the scenery as it passed by his window. A silence fell in the back of that limo, and when the pulled up to Derek's mansion the wolf stepped out himself, beckoning Stiles to follow. The slave started out of the car, following Derek up the stairs and into the manor. As the door closed behind them, Derek turned, taking off the collar that sat heavy on Stiles' neck. Stiles rubbed the area, swallowing, and Derek let his fingers drift over his neck, and the uncomfortable chaffed feeling faded. Stiles looked up at the alpha, but he was already turning away.

"Go get some rest, Stiles," he said softly, starting up the stairs. Stiles watched him for a moment, before glancing at the slave wing and moving into the kitchen where Erica and Isaac were talking over a plate of celery. They stopped when he walked in, their eyes flashing over him.

"How'd it go?" Erica asked. Stiles bit his lip, thinking about Scott. He didn't remember him at all, and that made him feel terrible because he felt like he should.

Stiles shook his head, sitting next to Isaac. "I don't want to talk about it." They studied him before turning back to their celery, and Stiles halfheartedly joined their conversation, but after a while he grew tired of it and stood, moving out into the main hall. 

He again looked at the slave wing, and again decided against going there. His eyes drifted toward the stairs and he wondered how much trouble he'd be in if he went up without permission.

He started up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, three things.  
> I've decided to forego a beta. I'll use wordcheck for spelling errors, but I'm pretty confident in my writing skills and no one's complained about the un-beta'd chapter, so...
> 
> Also, I'm gonna try and create a two-week rule for updating. My inspiration for writing just kind of comes and goes, but I'll try to get you guys chapters within two weeks. I can't gaurantee that it will be within two weeks, but after those two weeks are up I give you permission to scream and curse and yell at me until I've updated.
> 
> Finally, I've a new idea for a story. It's gonna be a Teen Wolf story, but it's gonna be totally new. I think you guys'll like it. I'm gonna try and map it out before I plunge into it (like this one lol) so it might be a chapter or two before I can give you a name and whatever. (And yes, it'll be a Sterek!)
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. See you in two weeks, maybe. (remember to bug me if it's been more than two weeks!!!)


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